


To Light a Flame

by red2007



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Santa's Workshop, Season/Series 07, Tipsy Dana Scully
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24282283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red2007/pseuds/red2007
Summary: Being in a relationship, even a new one, gave her a freedom she’d never acknowledged or taken advantage of before. Second and third shots of tequila, for example.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	To Light a Flame

**Author's Note:**

> This came out of the fanfic workshop put on by the amazing frangipanidownunder. The prompt was to mix moods and settings and I chose a foggy street, arousal, a cigarette and comedy. This short little drabble is what came from it.

He watches her sway, fumbling with a lighter. Her precision self faltering and staggering in her non regulation heels. The mist surrounding them is dense—ominous, but her perfectly trim slip is showing where it never does, her buttons aren’t lined up properly, and she is swearing like a sailor—each raspy syllable elongated.

She curses flint, butane, the bartender, Skinner, Morley’s and anyone who thought sending them on yet another wild goose chase had been a good idea. This includes him, though he thinks (not for the first time tonight) that she’s never looked so sexy.

Being in a relationship, even a new one, gave her a freedom she’d never acknowledged or taken advantage of before. Second and third shots of tequila, for example. The acrid liquid burned, warming him from the inside out; tequila was never his drink of choice. But for the sparkle in her eye, the way she touched him in public. The tickle of her honey breath against his neck and the heat of her body seeping through layers, hardening him while they danced—it was entirely worth it.

She’d regret it once the sun was up. The stale smokey smell on her nails and hair, which would still be feeling the effects of this humidity. The thrumming pressure and malaise of the hangover he predicts. All will pale in comparison to her discomfort at having eased her self imposed restraints.

For now, though, she’s standing in North Dakota, halfway from the bar to their hotel, pencil skirt ridden up revealing her trim and delectable thighs while she, the only person who can convince him cigarettes are sexy, leans her bare forearms against a brittle tree's bark tipsily attempting a flame.

“Who makes these?” The exasperation cuts through his alcohol laden arousal as she tosses the lighter and he can’t help the deep chortle that starts in his belly. She’s ridiculous, impossible, exquisite, brilliant, and possibly the silliest drunk he’s ever seen and he wouldn’t have her any other way. He presses into her, lips melting against hers, supple and liquor-soaked, stoking and stirring the flame she'd lit years ago.


End file.
